Legs. In a pub you have just stumbled on with two of your friends, your eyes immediately pause at her legs. She walks with a sense of confidence, those legs tan from whatever vacation she has just come back from as evidenced by the excited squeals she gets from her friends when she makes her way over to them. You turn away but then turn back at her and now she’s got her legs crossed, that dress riding up a little bit, and before you can think anything else you turn back around and take a long swig to finish the rest of your drink.

Hair. She has now made her way to the bar to be the spokesperson of what to get for her and her friends. She leans over the counter just a little bit so that her long hair falls and drapes around her shoulders, creating an illumination of dark brown curls. When she laughs, her hair bounces with her and you only realize then that you’re grinning along before stopping yourself. You know nothing nothing personal about about her, you don’t really care to, but she is captivating. The way she moves, how she carries herself. You’re officially intrigued.

Eyes. She waits for those drinks and then looks to her right, at a few people on the dance floor, and then looks to her left. Where you are. Your eyes lock on each other for a moment and suddenly nothing else exists. It is just you, a man who has been feeling so numb, and her, a woman whose eyes somehow manage to melt at the corners of that by pure lust being put in place. She plays a little bit of a game with you, looking away dramatically as though she’s trying to find something in various other parts of the room before she is looking right back. You both let out a laugh. Those brown eyes are dangerous.

Hands. The boys you are with have moved away and that pull you are feeling is enough to get you to walk over to the other side of the bar so that you can stand next to her.

“Took you long enough.”

A mischievous smirk enters the picture. Conversation is mostly in the form of flirtatious banter, her fingertips grazing your arm, and you’re ignited by the hint of her skin on yours. You want more. You’re craving so much more. Your hand moves some of that hair off her shoulder and then rests on her lower back.

Let's not talk too much
Grab on my waist and put that body on me

There is a moment that she gets another drink, a pause in the euphoria, that you can’t help but think of her. That sort of thing has happened a lot but has been happening less. You take it day by day. She is the piece of a piece of the puzzle of who you know is gone but never ever forgotten. A relationship ending that was not merely a relationship ending. It was a friendship ending, a connection ending, a few years of knowing each other ending, a huge amount of trust ending, a lyrical bond unmatched by anyone else ending. This sort of thing just a month ago would be unthinkable in your eyes. You were not ready, you did not want to, she would take over your mind, you weren’t even looking, you were content busying yourself with anything other than a connection to another woman. Tonight, it is just for that brief moment, a brief pang of an ache for what used to be, and then it is over. You realize that you are released, all by your own accord. It has hit you when you did not expect it, but despite your negative concerns over being able to keep moving forward, it did actually hit you.